“It’s just leftovers,” Dominic said apologetically as he seated me at the kitchen table.
“After you were nice enough to come pick me up and to feed me, I can hardly complain about leftovers. Especially not if you made them.”
As usual, the praise made him blush. I lavished more on him when he served me the most delicious stuffed shells I’d ever eaten. I almost cried in gratitude when he put together a care package to take home with me.
When I say I almost cried, I mean it literally. Now that the crisis was over, the emotions I’d been holding at bay with a vengeance were eroding away my shields. I felt like there was an aching hole in my chest where Brian had once been. Even when I tried to summon some anger to bolster my defenses, I failed miserably. I couldn’t blame him for finally giving up on me. I just wished with all my being that he hadn’t. Or that I could go back in time and force myself to open up to him, to tell him the truth. To trust him, because he was right, and I’d often withheld my trust even when I knew in my heart he deserved it.
“Do you realize you’ve been staring off into space for almost ten minutes?” Dominic asked, startling me out of my reverie.
I blinked, then glanced at my watch. However, since I hadn’t thought to check the time when I spaced out, it didn’t do much good. “You’re shitting me.”
He smiled and shook his head. “Nope. Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”
I can’t count how many times in my life I’ve answered the “what’s wrong” question with “nothing,” even when the sky was falling. I almost did the same now by sheer reflex, but the words died in my throat.
“I need help trying to figure out how to win Brian back,” I blurted, and I don’t know who was more surprised, me or Dom.
He blinked at me like I had to be an imposter. “What kind of drugs do they have you on?”
I tried to laugh, but it was a pathetic effort. “If desperation is a drug, then I’m overdosing on it.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I love him too much to give up on us yet, but I don’t have a clue what to do.”
Dom looked at me long and hard. I couldn’t read the expression on his usually open book of a face. “I’m pretty sure I know what the problem is between you, but will you put it into words for me anyway?”
It was so unlike me to talk about my feelings that I almost wondered if I’d been brainwashed or put under hypnosis. But I kept talking anyway. “The problem is that I have major trust issues, and I’ve given Brian every reason to believe I don’t trust him to look out for me, to look out for himself, to make the right decisions …” My eyes blurred with tears. What an unholy mess I’d made of everything!
“So to have a hope to win him back, you’re going to have to prove that you trust him after all.”
“Just like that, huh? How can I prove it? I tried promising him I’d—”
Dominic cut me off, meeting my eyes and capturing me with an intense gaze. “Ask yourself why you’re asking me how to win Brian back.”
“Because you’re the only one I know who wouldn’t laugh at me, or patronize me, or tell me I was reaping what I sowed.”
He shook his head. “That’s not it, Morgan,” he said in a gently chiding voice.
“What do you mean? Of course that’s it!”
“I’m not going to do all the work for you. If you can’t dig the real reason out of your subconscious, then I can’t help you.”
I swallowed the next denial that wanted to spring to my lips. I had a funny feeling a part of me knew exactly what Dom was talking about—a part of me that wasn’t always on speaking terms with my conscious mind. A part of me I wasn’t sure I was willing, or even able to acknowledge. A part of me that had some inkling of what gesture I could make to symbolize my trust.
Despite the sudden panic that screamed through me, I started putting the pieces of my own thoughts together. Brian had dropped me for my lack of trust. The only way I could hope to get him back was by proving that I did trust him. And the person I was asking advice from was the M half of an S&M relationship, a man who routinely made himself completely helpless before his lover and liked it.
“Oh shit,” I said in a near whisper as the tumblers in my mind lined up and the safe opened.
Dominic smiled. “I believe you’re beginning to get the picture.”
My only response was a loud gulp of fear. Brian and I had danced around the edges of some fairly kinky sex—thanks to Lugh giving Brian some pointers—but what I was thinking of now wasn’t dancing around the edge anymore.
“When you submit to someone you trust completely,” Dominic said softly, still smiling, “you open yourself up more fully than you can possibly imagine. Every part of you becomes vulnerable. It’s not just an act of the body. You’re opening up your emotions, the very essence of yourself.” The smile turned a bit sheepish. “Of course, I’m speaking specifically of myself. Not everyone experiences it the same way.”
I took a slow, deep breath and tried to push my panic out when I released it. “But if I’m looking for a metaphorical way to symbolize my trust …”
“Only if you think Brian is open to it,” Dom hedged. “It’s possible he’d be too weirded out to even realize there’s a message, much less understand it.”
But instinct told me he wouldn’t be weirded out. He’d shown no hint of discomfort when things had gotten a bit kinky between us—hell, he’d been a lot more comfortable about it than I was—and he’d clearly enjoyed himself.
“He’d get the message,” I said. Assuming I was willing to deliver said message, and he was willing to receive it.
Dom nodded. “I can’t guarantee it will be enough,” he reminded me. “But it would say a hell of a lot more than a bunch of words ever could.”
I had to agree with him there. I cleared my throat. “So what would I, uh, do?”
There was what I could only describe as an evil glint in Dominic’s eye.
“One of the reasons falling in love can be so scary is that you’re basically giving the other person your heart, along with all the weapons he needs to destroy it. You’re giving him the means to hurt you terribly, and trusting him not to do it even though you have no tangible guarantee. So, think about how you can symbolize that to Brian.”
I squirmed. “I have no experience with this S&M stuff.” My face burned. If you’d asked me a couple of weeks ago if there was a chance in hell I’d ever have a conversation like this, I’d have laughed.
Dom shook his head. “This isn’t really about SM. SM is about the giving and receiving of pleasure, just in unconventional ways. You can work out a lot of trust issues during SM play, but it’s still about pleasure for everyone involved. I’m not sure you’re ready to do it for pleasure yet.”
I bristled. “What do you mean, yet?”
His smile was both placid and disgustingly knowing. “You know how some of the most vehement homophobes sometimes turn out to be gays who’ve refused to come out of the closet?”
My cheeks were so hot I feared I might spontaneously combust. The harder I tried not to, the more I found myself thinking about the fantasies Lugh had created for me—and about some of my more … adventurous sexual forays with Brian. I decided my wisest course of action was to pretend I hadn’t heard what Dom had just said.
“This asking-an-expert-for-help thing isn’t working too well,” I muttered.
“If you want my advice on how to dip your toes into the BDSM pool, I’m happy to help. But if you’re just looking to make a grand symbolic gesture, then I think the ideas have to come from you or the gesture loses a lot of its power. That doesn’t mean I can’t help out—it just means I can’t tell you what you should do.”